


Slip of the Tongue

by Topicabo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topicabo/pseuds/Topicabo
Summary: The first time Mycroft calls Greg "Gregory".





	Slip of the Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Another little ditty that popped up, because I felt like writing some sexy fun.

“Oh…yes, yes…Ah! Gregory!”

 

Greg paused mid-thrust. “What?”

 

Mycroft’s eyes blinked open, staring up at him through a haze of pheromones and pleasure. “Why did-?”

 

Greg crooked an amused smile. “You called me Gregory.”

 

Dazed confusion gave way to the chill of awareness. Mycroft’s expression unconsciously tightened in an effort to mask some portion of his embarrassment. “My apologies,” he mumbled, his fervor immediately dampening. “I misspoke. I didn’t mean-“

 

“Say it again.”

 

Mycroft stopped, his brow crinkling. “What?”

 

Greg’s smile widened. He drew back, and then reentered with a measured, gentle glide. Mycroft expelled a quavering breath, his eyelids fluttering.

 

“Say it again, Myc.”

 

“I-“ Mycroft’s reticence further crumbled at the second maddeningly slow push. “Are you sure?” he croaked with none of the poise or dignity that was supposed to come naturally to him.

 

“God yes.” Greg rolled his hips with a bit more purpose, dragging a proper moan from Mycroft. “Come on, gorgeous. Let me hear it.”

 

Mycroft swallowed, fire burning in his cheeks, snaking under his ribcage all the down to his groin. “G-Gregory…”

 

Greg put some force behind his next thrust, grinning at Mycroft’s soft exclamation.

 

“Again.”

 

“Gregory.”

 

An even harder kick of Greg’s hips this time. Mycroft arched against the mattress with a sharp groan.

 

“ _Again_.”

 

Mycroft needed no further prompting after that. He gave Greg what he wanted, over and over, and each time Greg answered the pleas unspoken behind Mycroft’s cries. _Harder. Faster. More. More. Please, please, don’t stop…_

 

Greg panted against Mycroft’s lips, licked along his jawline, coloured his pale neck with mouth shaped bruises. Mycroft had unconsciously tightened his legs around Greg’s waist, meeting him thrust for thrust, urging him to go deeper, make him feel it under his skin and down in his bones.

 

Greg’s movements became more irregular, his breathing harsher. Mycroft felt a hand grasp his cock, and with two firm pumps his muscles seized, his mouth dropping open in a prolonged shout of savage pleasure. Greg stroked him through it, stretching out the intensity until Mycroft finally sagged back against the bed, his motor control going offline.

 

Through the lingering static of his orgasm, he watched Greg drive in once more and hold there, shaking and cursing in the grip of his own release; eyes screwed shut, teeth clenched, back bowing as he folded in on himself.

 

Mycroft loved seeing this moment, when Greg was helpless and overcome by sensation, reduced to nothing but sobbing gasps and breathy moans. His decimation was utterly beautiful.

 

Greg signaled the return of his senses with a small whimper, his body swaying as though in an effort to remain upright. Mycroft reached out and pulled Greg down against him, wrapping his weakened arms around Greg’s trembling form. Greg mumbled something nonsensical into his chest. Mycroft merely shushed him, caressing his neck with idle circles.

 

“My dear Gregory. You are a treasure.”

 

Greg huffed a cracked laugh, pressing his lips over the approximate place where Mycroft’s heart was. “You gonna keep calling me Gregory then? I think I like it.”

 

Mycroft chuckled as well. The fussy part of him wanted a wipe down, but his brain still too busy floating in the ether for him to care. Especially when Greg felt so warm and perfect against his skin.

 

“Perhaps,” he said, listening as their breathing synced together. He drew Greg closer to him and sighed. “But I believe I’ll reserve doing so for special occasions.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea that Mycroft wouldn't readily admit that he thinks of Greg as "Gregory". Maybe that he's even a bit embarrassed to let Greg know. I might make a few more drabbles in this vein about their nicknames for each other and what not.


End file.
